Inkheart
by The Inkweaver
Summary: An ancient criminal organisation has been reactivated in America and a spy is leaking information from the CIA's data files. The mysterious Inkheart has thrown the entire US into disarray. But this time, Alex can't do it alone.
1. Prologue

The stench of death was heavy in the air. Joe Brace drew another antagonizing breath and fell to his knees. He heard the voice of his attacker.

"The Disk!" He recognized the voice. It was his own.

"The bag!" he choked. The attacked nodded, and walked over to the thin canvas bag in the corner and rummaged through. Brace looked at the hole in his chest, slowly spreading blood over his shirt. He nearly passed out, and would've been grateful if he had.

His attacker had found what he was looking for. He pulled out a floppy disk from the bag, relatively old-fashioned now. Then he turned, and walked back towards Brace. Brace saw a pair of legs stop in front of him. He forced himself to look upwards. What he saw hit him like a brick wall.

The man was completely like him. Neat black hair, the same thin face, they were identical down to the last wrinkle. But they weren't. Looking closer, Brace could see a thin cut down the side of his attacker's face that had not had time to heal. But then the gun in the man's right hand took his attention. He concentrated hard to keep conscious, as he heard the last words he would ever hear.

"Goodnight, from Inkheart."


	2. Chapter 1 Back Again

Alex sat in the swivel chair staring across the table into the grey eyes of Blunt. Mrs Jones was sitting in the corner chewing on her peppermint. Blunt examined the report in front of him, and then laid it aside. He made no attempt at a smile, or even a greeting and he didn't apologise for keeping Alex waiting.

It was a month after Alex had nearly been killed escaping from Ark Angel, a space hotel that had been set to explode and destroy Washington DC. A small helicopter had picked Alex up from the middle of the ocean, and he had been dropped back home via a taxi from the airport. Blunt had called him in the month after. He attempted a smile now, although all his lips managed was a faint twitch upwards.

"Well, Alex. You've done it again," he said. "The President of America sends his congratulations. But along with that, he also sent you another assignment."

"No," Alex said. "No way. I've had it. You can do it alone this time, I've had . . ."

His anger burnt out as he remembered the threats Blunt had promised would fall on him if he refused to do what he wanted. It was blackmail, but argument was a waste of time.

"What is it this time?" he asked, recognizing defeat. As if on cue, Mrs Jones stood up and walked over, slipping another peppermint into her mouth.

"Along with his congratulations, the President of America also sent you another assignment. Have you ever heard of Inkheart, Alex?"

Alex shook his head.

"Wasn't it on the news? Was it a criminal organization or something?" His heart sank. The last time he had come into contact with a criminal organization, the results hadn't been good. He had almost been poisoned, stabbed, and drowned. It was also to Scorpia that he owed the bullet wound just above his heart to.

Mrs Jones seemed concerned. Scorpia had manipulated Alex into thinking his father was a contract killer. As a result, Alex had almost killed Mrs Jones.

"I'll give you a brief history of Inkheart. Nobody knows when they were first activated, but a CIA operative started joining the dots in 1890. Since then, CIA have waged a constant war with them, but they were bought down twenty years ago by a CIA officer called Joe Brace. Brace was extremely intelligent, and work constantly against Inkheart because his family was killed as a result of their actions. He masterminded a trap to kill one of its key operatives and Inkheart fell to its knees. Brace was given promotion and a medal, and continued to rise throughout the CIA." Mrs Jones paused before moving on.

"Brace retired from field work about ten years ago, but he still has a desk job at CIA. But last week, he fell seriously ill, and stopped going to work. He has sent a few emails, but the CIA are worried."

"Why?" Alex asked.

"The day after Brace fell ill, the NSA intercepted an encrypted email message. TRANSLATR broke it, and . . ."

"Hold on!" Alex cut in. "What's TRANSLATR?"

Mrs Jones had taken advantage of his sudden question to throw another peppermint into her mouth. Alex wondered why her teeth were still in place, what with all the peppermints she ate.

"TRANSLATR is the NSA's code breaker machine. The email it intercepted contained top information concerning an operation involving an assassin in New York. What's more, the CIA have tracked the original computer that sent the message."

"Don't tell me," Alex said. "It was Brace, wasn't it?"

"Precisely," Mrs Jones said.

"So what do you need me for?" Alex asked. "The CIA have their own agents, I'm sure they can manage."

"No, Alex," Mrs Jones said. "The CIA need somebody who can blend in. Brace lives in a small flat in Chicago. We can arrange for you to live in the flat, and see what you can find out. And we're not sending you in alone."

"What?" Alex said.

"The CIA have arranged for an old friend to meet you at the airport," Mrs Jones said with a thin smile. "And we've also arranged some new toys."


	3. Chapter 2 New Toys

Alex opened the door, and walked into an office. To the normal eye, the office would have looked quite ordinary. But Alex knew better. The potted plant and lamp on the desk, the picture on the wall and the two-seater sofa all contained hidden secrets, not to mention the filing cabinet.

Smithers wasn't there when Alex arrived. Alex sat down on a chair in front of the desk, and waited. Then yelled as the chair glowed bright blue. Alex backed away, and at the same moment, the picture of an island on the wall suddenly flickered into life. The island vanished, and in its place was an extremely fat man. He smiled at Alex.

"Alex, old bean! Wonderful to see you, please come on down!" he said. The two-seater sofa in the corner moved. The two cushions slid aside and a third piece popped up. Alex stared at it suspiciously, before climbing reluctantly onto the third piece. There was a shudder, and the third piece started to descend.

The journey didn't take long. Alex stepped off of a sofa identical to the one directly above it. He was in a large room, much bigger than any of the offices he'd been in. Around him, about five people in white coats were working at long benches, building equipment, experimenting with chemicals and writing things down. At the back working on the only desk was an enormous man in a huge white coat. He smiled and beckoned Alex over.

"Hello, old chap! You're back again, for another round!"

"Hello, Mr Smithers," Alex said, but he couldn't help a small smile. "What have you got this time?"

"Well, I'm afraid its still the same, no weapons," Smithers said. "But I've bent a few rules in the past and I don't see why we can't do it this time," Smithers said leading Alex over to one of the many benches. This was the only one that didn't have equipment thrown over it. Smithers placed a large silver briefcase on it and flicked the locks. As he lifted the lid, Alex saw a glint of silver. It was a RM Laptop. Smithers took it out and flipped the lid.

"Now, primarily this is a contact device. It gives you direct contact with an agent on duty. It uses radio waves, and I've had to place a satellite in orbit around to earth for you to use it, which is why you couldn't have it before now. I would be grateful to have it back, it cost an absolute fortune!" He smiled. "To access it, all you have to do is click the Internet icon. You don't even need Internet connection!

"Now, of course if the worse should happen I've programmed a stun grenade that can be detonated from a distance." He took out a data stick from the suitcase. "There is a button on the back. Anyone within a five-meter radius will be severely stunned for at least ten minutes." Alex smiled.

"That seems familiar," he said.

"Yes, we used much the same principle for the Striker device in your mission to Skeleton Key. But we updated it with a radio device. Very useful." He put the laptop on the desk.

"What else? Ah yes." He opened a cupboard and pulled out a battered old suitcase. Spotting Alex's bewildered look, he said

"We've adapted this for you as well." He placed it on the desk.

"It may look battered but it is actually lined with steel. There are two combination locks, each with numbers going up to twenty. The combination is 15 for the first and 6 for the second. Then just flick the locks up. If they're done in the wrong order, a five-second countdown begins, and another stun device goes off. It also blows open the suitcase so you can fetch anything valuable from there before anyone else recovers."

"Is that all?" Alex asked.

"Just one more thing!" Smithers smiled. He took out a CD in a small box. Alex glanced down and took in the title: Key Stage 4 Maths.

"This'll come in handy," he said.

"Not in the way that you think," Smithers smiled. He flipped open the box and took out the CD. He pulled down on it with a pudgy finger and part of it slid out revealing a small tool.

"We call this the SNAG tool. One of my agents came up with it and you just extend the tool and place it in the lock. It snags all the tumblers and you can open the door. I understand you'll need it to get into Brace's flat."

"Thanks, Mr Smithers," Alex said. Smithers smiled.

"Look after yourself, dear boy!" he said. He strolled over to a cupboard and pushed a button on the side. The door opened and the back slid back to reveal a small staircase. Alex descended the stairs. He felt better already.


	4. An Old Friend

Alex descended the metal staircase of the plane into the sweltering October sunlight. The heat hit him in the face and he had to shield is eyes from the light. A man swore in German as he crashed into Alex from behind. Alex apologised, and then walked carefully down the stairs feeling slightly dazed.

Alex felt slightly ill. The flight had encountered some strong turbulence, and he had forgotten to take a travel sickness tablet. He ached all over from the seat, and just wanted to get to the hotel and sleep. But there was a surprise waiting for him after passport control.

Alex walked out of passport control, and spotted someone waving. At first, he thought they were waving at someone behind him. Then he caught a glimpse of long brown hair and cool blue eyes. It was Tamara Knight. Alex walked over smiling, his jet lag already forgotten.

"How are you, Alex?" Tamara said. She was pleased to see him.

"Fine thanks," Alex said. In truth, he had been expecting the worst. When he had worked with two other American agents on his mission to Skeleton Key, the results hadn't been good. Alex half expected the same to happen.

Tamara steered Alex over to a black limo with a quiet driver in the front. Alex was glad of the air conditioning system and blacked out windows. Tamara had opened a small case and pulled out a large folder full of paper.

"Your new ID," she said. "It's great to be working with you again Alex. We're going to a hotel now to rest and give you a chance to get used to your new identity, and then we'll arrive the flat tomorrow."

"How is the bullet wound?" Alex asked. Last month in their mission against Drevin, Tamara had sustained a bullet in her shoulder.

"Not bad," she said. "It's healing really well." Her cool eyes surveyed the cuts and bruises on his face. Alex looked away, and Tamara thankfully didn't mention them.

Their hotel was small and shabby. It was probably called _The Grand Hotel_ but the sign actually said _The Grot Estbo._ Nobody would guess that two of the residents were spies Alex guessed. The limo drove away, back to the CIA HQ Alex presumed. Tamara took up her cases and proceeded into the reception area. She walked up to the male receptionist, who was reading a paperback. She coughed and he looked up.

"Is this the Grand Hotel?" she asked.

"What does it say on the sign?" the man grunted.

"The Grot Estbo."

"Yeah, well we lost some of the letters during a storm, and them kids down the road nicked a few," the man said. Tamara waved this away.

"You got a room?"

"Actually, we have lots of rooms."

"Right, how much?"

"Twenny a night," he said. Tamara handed over the money and took the key he was holding out with a grubby hand.

"Room seventeen," he said and went back to his paperback.

"Alex!" Tamara called. It was the next day, and the alarm clock on the table next to Tamara had broken and failed to wake her up at eight o'clock. It was now half nine and they were half an hour late. They both belted down a hasty breakfast then caught a cab. The flat was about a mile away. Tamara buried herself in her files, so Alex had no choice but to stare out of the window. The journey took about fifteen minutes. Tamara paid the driver then walked up to the doors. Unlike the Grand Hotel, this was a beautiful block of flats. Tamara took out a key ring and searched for the right key. While she was, Alex took a good look around the street. An elderly woman across the street was calling to a ginger cat, but it was a movement round the corner had caught Alex's eye. A man had been coming around the corner, but he had stopped and moved back. Alex was sure of it. He was watching from the cover of a large tree. Tamara chose this moment to find the right key and open the door. Alex was so busy staring at the man under the pretence of looking at a large van across the road he didn't notice until she called him.

"Alex?" she said. He jerked out of his gaze and followed her in, closing the door behind him. They walked up the long spiral staircase and up to their room.

CIA had got the room right at the top. It was a bit cramped. There were two small bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a tiny bathroom with a shower. Alex groaned. He could've used a good bath. He walked to the large window at the back of the living room. The midday sunlight was filtering in. Alex peered out but he couldn't see the man anymore.

"Alex?" Tamara called. Alex blinked and moved away. "Do you want coffee or tea?" Tamara asked.

Alex stepped out of the flat and down the steps into the street. The warm night air was helping him feel relaxed. He was dressed in a loose top and jeans. A group of loud girls passed, laughing and giggling. A man was walking home with a small briefcase. A woman was walking a dog. It all felt so . . . normal. Alex wished he could be part of it, to go straight back to London and forget about MI6, Alan Blunt and all the rest of it. But he couldn't. He walked along a street, then looked out across the brilliant Chicago skyline. As he turned, however, a movement caught his eye. He turned instantly and disappeared down a side street. He was being followed . . .


	5. And All That Jazz

Alex wove in and out of the tall buildings. The streets were fairly quiet, most people were indoors getting ready for a night out. Alex cursed. Why couldn't there be people when you needed them? He had recognized the man, he had worn a black overcoat. Alex tore down another street attracting the gaze of some elderly men sitting outside a café. The man was still behind him; Alex could hear his thundering footsteps over the thundering of his own heart. He ran around another corner into a small alleyway and hurtled along it. It was a dead end. He looked round and spotted a side entrance into one of Chicago's jazz clubs. He slammed his shoulder against it, but it was locked.

Alex could hear the footsteps approaching. He plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the disk Smithers had given him. He slid part of it back to reveal the tool, then pocked the tool into the keyhole. He felt the tool snag onto all of the tumblers and heard them click into place. He rammed into the door and sighed with relief as it swung open. He ran in, shut it quickly then looked at his surroundings.

He was in a large hall, with a small stage and tables and seats surrounding it. He looked at the balcony above him, before turning around and ramming a small chair under the door handle. Then he ran up the stairs onto the top balcony and hid behind a mini bar. He had a plan . . .

The man threw his shoulder against the door, with no success. The kid had locked it or something. He swore, and rammed the door again. The top of the chair snapped and the man sighed with relief. He walked into the club. Normally it would have been full of people getting ready for the nights show. But it looked like it was closed for the night. The boy had vanished, but he couldn't have gone far because the door was locked and bolted, and the other door was behind him. He walked carefully along, weaving in and out of the tables and chairs. Alex, meanwhile, edged along the balcony at the top, until he was right above the man. Then, he dropped.

SLAM! The man's head jerked back. Alex had landed right on top of him, then forced him to the floor. He moaned angrily, then threw Alex off. Alex landed on his back, and got up, adopting the stance of readiness from his karate. The man had no experience of karate, but he was obviously streetwise. He circled Alex warily. Alex tried to look unafraid, but the atmosphere was threatening. It was dark, nobody knew he was here and if he wasn't careful, he could die.

The man charged at him, and Alex threw himself aside. He hit a chair and knocked it over and bruising his arm. He got back up, painfully. The man had crashed into a table and smashed to the floor. He had also got up, but was wheezing. He had winded himself. Alex took the space between them without hesitation, and performed the karate kick that had won him his black belt. Talking no chances, he followed it up with an elbow to the temple. The man crumpled. He was out before he even hit the floor. Alex breathed heavily, getting rid of the bloodlust he had felt. He grabbed the man's bag he had over his shoulder, and walked out of the club.


	6. Chimera

It was seven o'clock before Alex finally got back to the flat. Chicago had decided to hit the town, and the streets were full of people. Alex dodged between them with the man's backpack over his shoulder. He found it hard to believe that everything was so ordinary, when a ruthless ancient criminal organization was orperating behind these people's backs, just waiting to wipe the CIA out. When he got in, Tamara made him a cup of tea before he explained.

"Oh, Alex. That was dangerous," she said, after he had finished the story. Alex didn't reply, instead taking out the backpack he had taken. He poured the contents out onto the table.

There was a floppy disk and a clear plastic folder containing some paper. Alex pulled the cover off the folder and pulled out the paper. It was a series of emails. He pulled out the first and began to read:

5/5/05

Inkheart,

Have successfully taken the role of Joe Brace and sent the encrypted emails. The CIA decrypted them and know about the leakage. Luckily, they can't decrypt this message, no matter how hard they try. The Chimera virus was in place at 0800 hours, but the files were scrambled.

Joe Brace

7/5/05

Inkheart,

The virus has successfully infiltrated the inner mainframe. All I need now is your word. Kelly arrived earlier and delivered the final software, but there were bugs for it. It looks like Brace only managed to develop three of the four parts.

Joe Brace

10/5/05

Inkheart,

CIA have been thrown into disarray, and they don't know what to do. Kelly is working on the last piece of the puzzle and the final copy has been updated.

Joe Brace

15/5/05

Inkheart,

Kelly has delivered the final software. The virus is in position and ready to be detonated. Some new people arrived at my flat today, they will have to be checked a woman and a boy, though of course it is too late. We can't be stopped, though CIA have appealed to MI6 for help on the 12/5/05. We are to be on our guard.

Alex finished reading and looked at Tamara.

"What does it mean?" she said. Alex didn't answer, but pulled out the laptop Smithers had given him. He booted it up and clicked on the Internet icon.

Lloyd wasn't impressed. A few months ago, he had let himself be bested by a kid. Alex Rider. He ground a pen into a piece of paper in frustration. It was because of that kid he was now on desk duty, staring at the two screens waiting for agents to get in touch. Rider had slipped past him and nearly assassinated his boss. Highly embarrassing, the kid should be rotting in prison, but he was too valuable. One of the screens suddenly lit up.

"Finally!" Lloyd said leaning forward. Then he snapped back as if he had just been hit into the face.

"You!"

"Yes," Alex said. "Me. What's a chimera?"

"A Greek monster," Lloyd said. He was a bit of an expert on myths and legends. Alex frowned, and Lloyd lent back.

"OK, OK," he said, typing it into the database. He consulted the screen. "Too many hits," he said. "Anything more specific?"

"Try Chimera virus," Alex said. Lloyd typed it in. Then paled.

"Chimera virus?" he said. "You . . . you haven't got one on your hands, have you?"

It was bad news. Lloyd had bought in Mrs Jones. She too, looked slightly disturbed.

"Alex," she said. "Listen. The Chimera virus was developed by Inkheart during their war against the CIA. When inserted into a computer database, it rampages around corrupting everything very, very quietly. Once a file is infected, it stays that way. The Chimera leaks the file which can be remote controlled to be sent to a location via email. The Chimera then deletes the file. It nearly let Inkheart win the war. Inkheart could know when the CIA would attack and where."

"It sounds like the perfect weapon to me," Alex said. "Why didn't Inkheart win, then?"

"Chimera seems like the perfect weapon," Mrs Jones continued after throwing another peppermint into her mouth. "But, there was a flaw in the programming. Chimera couldn't be set off; it required more software to be developed. Chimera infected nearly every file in the CIA database but none of the files could be deleted or sent. Inkheart had made their mistake by launching themselves against the CIA too early. Their killer weapon couldn't work; it needed more time. So Joe Brace went straight into action. He argued with the CIA to attack Inkheart now, or the virus would go online and the CIA's every move would be in the hands of Inkheart. Brace got permission from the President and had a huge team of CIA and FBI agents sent out to discover the location of the leaders of Inkheart."

Alex frowned. "Why wasn't I told this before?"

Mrs Jones avoided his eyes, and paused.

"It, er, didn't seem relevant at the time, Alex."

"That's not true," Alex shouted. "You knew, but you just didn't want to make it sound dangerous!"

"Alex, look . . . "

"Forget it! I don't have to put up with this! Leave me alone!"

Mrs Jones sucked her Peppermint.

"Alex, we don't have time. You have to help Tamara before we go into a world wide crises."

Tamara and Alex stood on top of the staircase, staring at the door to Brace's apartment. Mrs Jones was sure the answers to their questions would be in there. The objectives: find out what you can and find and sabotage the Chimera virus. Before they had gone, she reminded them that this was an American mission, and Alex would have to obey Tamara's instructions if at all possible. Alex knew that Mrs Jones had made it sound easy, but it still seemed as if he were on the border of World War III.

The door opened. Tamara and Alex ducked out of sight. The man descended the staircase. Tamara took a deep breath, then pulled out an ordinary camera. She took five pictures of the man going down the stairs, then pulled back. She peered at the screen on the back of the camera. Alex looked over her shoulder. He knew that the CIA also carried gadgets, Tamara's shoelaces having saved Washington a month ago. A second later, the camera beeped and a name flashed on the top: Joe Brace.

"It's him," Tamara muttered. They took the stairs three at a time before jumping down onto the landing and rushing to the door. Alex pulled out the SNAG tool and the door was open in seconds.

"Neat," Tamara muttered as they rushed inside.

The flat was larger than theirs. Alex and Tamara split up, searching the rooms. The living room contained nothing, and nor did the bathroom or the kitchen. However, they got lucky in the study. An apple computer was standing on a large oak desk. Tamara booted it up and switched on the desk light, for it was getting dark.

"I'll check this out," she said. "Search the other rooms."

"For what?"

"Bags, disks, folders, anything," she replied distractedly. Alex ran out. Tamara held her breath. If the computer was password protected, then they would have to wait for a special force team to break into it. And if it alerted Inkheart, they might detonate a back-up copy of the virus into the CIA database. The computer beeped; she was in! Tamara breathed, and double clicked on My Documents. There was a folder labeled Chimera.

Alex was in the bedroom. He rummaged through some drawers, then checked under the bed. He pulled out a thin canvas bag, then pulled it open. Inside, there was a floppy disk and some other items. There was a large set of CDs and a folder. He pulled it out, and examined the wad of paper inside. What he saw made his stomach contract.

Tamara opened several of the Chimera documents at once. The first seemed to be a diary of events. Tamara read through the last five:

Have successfully transferred the latest research and updated the detonation software.

Another flaw developed today, must be wrapped.

Isolated flaw and corrected it. New software transferred today. Inkheart sent new research.

Research used to update software. Tested it, close to perfect but some of the virus failed to detonate.

Corrected flaws, all viruses detonated. Only remaining flaw is a Chute flaw. Inkheart will correct it. Sent final software off today to HQ.

Tamara couldn't believe what she was reading. The diary told exactly Brace's road of treachery. He had been developing the Chimera, for about two weeks. And he had sent a copy of the detonation software to Inkheart. It was too late. She checked the other documents. Most were saved emails from Inkheart, informing Brace how to create the detonation software. Brace had betrayed them. But even as she thought it, Tamara knew it wasn't true. Brace wouldn't have betrayed them to Inkheart. It didn't make any sense. Brace had bought Inkheart to its knees and killed the Chimera. Now he was working for Inkheart? Tamara heard Alex step into the room. She looked at the last file in the chimera folder. It was the detonation software. She looked behind her and saw Alex. But he wasn't alone. Three men were with him, Brace and two others. One was gaunt and white, and looked as if he had recently suffered a great deal of pain. There was a bruise on his face, and he was looking at Alex with intense dislike. He was wearing a black coat. Tamara stood up, and lifted her hands.


	7. Chapter 6 Escape and Update

Tamara stared at the people in front of her. Her face was burning. One of the men was Brace; she was sure of it. Alex's face was smarting. Somebody had hit him across the cheek. The man with the bruised face was holding a thin canvas bag. It obviously didn't have much in it.

Brace walked towards Tamara.

"Keep your hands up," he said, nodding over his shoulder. "Or he dies."

Brace walked right up to Tamara. His breath stank. That didn't make any sense either. Tamara had known Brace a little bit from business. Not on first name terms or anything, but she had known that he had always brushed his teeth. He was also a very careful man. He had a desk job, so why was there a fading scar down his face? Unless it wasn't Brace . . .

Tamara was snapped out of her gaze when the man slapped her on the cheek. Her head snapped back.

"Which flat are you sleeping in?" the man asked again. "Lead the way, or you both die."

Alex edged out of the study. His head was reeling; none of the gadgets Smithers had given him could help, his own combat skills were no good against three fully grown men with guns and Tamara looked slightly dazed. She led the way out the door and upstairs to their flat.

"In," Brace said. Alex hadn't known Brace, so he couldn't tell that this was a fake. All he knew was that the man looked like Brace and had a gun. Tamara opened the door with the key. She made to go inside, but one of the men pulled her back.

"I go first," he said, with a sight French accent. He pulled the door out of Tamara's grip and stumped in. The others forced Tamara and Alex through and sat them down on the settee.

"Check the rooms. We can't afford to make any mistakes," Brace said. Even his voice was identical to Brace's.

"Mate, they can't have let the CIA know," the man with the accent said.

"You don't know. If the CIA arrives here later and they left something behind, they could be onto us. Kelly, check the bedrooms. I'll guard them here and Pascal, check the kitchen and bathroom."

Both men nodded and turned, heading to different rooms. Tamara decided to try sincerity.

"Brace, why are you doing this? Inkheart is planning to destroy the CIA, the people you worked for!"

Brace laughed, keeping his gun trained on Alex and Tamara.

"In case you haven't noticed, girly, I'm not Brace! I killed him two weeks ago and took his place!"

"Why? What's the point?"

The man who looked like Brace shook his finger at them.

"Inkheart was angry with Brace, so he killed and humiliated him," the man said. His face cracked into an insane grin. "Everyone thinks Brace betrayed the CIA!"

Kelly walked into the room.

"I found this in the room."

He was carrying a case. Alex's case.

"What's the combination, boy?"

A spark ignited Alex's mind.

"It's 24 on the first and 43 on the second," he said.

"Pascal!" the man called. "Get in here!"

Pascal ran in.

"I couldn't find anything," he said.

"Doesn't matter. Looks like its all in the case!" The three men stood around the table on which the case was lying on. Kelly slowly inserted the combination code, and then began to lift the lid.

BANG!

There was a blast of sound and light, smashing through the room like a stampede. Alex was smashed backwards by a shockwave from the case. He and Tamara were cushioned by the settee.

The men were less lucky. They had been standing up when the case exploded. They were thrown away effortlessly in different directions, and crashed straight into the walls of the flat. They slid down, their eyes closed.

Alex was first to recover. He waited until the world stopped spinning before choosing to get up. Tamara's eyes were still spinning. As Smithers had said, the lid of the case had been blown open, revealing the silver laptop below. Amazingly, it was intact. Alex grabbed it, tucking it under his arm, and shook Tamara.

"Quick, Tamara, we have to go."

Tamara's eyes rolled, she tipped forward and spewed a load of sick onto the carpet. She leaned back, and wiped her mouth.

"Shall we go, then?"

They sprinted out of the flat and down the stairs. Tamara rushed into Brace's room and grabbed the canvas bag of files.

"Come on! We can hide somewhere, then contact MI6!" Tamara said, leaping down the stairs leading up to the doors of the flat. Alex followed, and they sprinted round the corner of the building.

It was near midnight when they finally stopped running. Alex took the laptop from under his arm and flipped the lid. They were in an empty warehouse by the sea, and they could hear the water lapping gently up and down the walls. Tamara didn't like it. It could cover the footsteps of someone approaching. She was tense, and alert.

Alex double clicked the Internet icon. The screen blurred for a second, then slowly, a face came into focus. Mrs Jones was there herself.

"Alex!" she said. "What have you got?"

"We got inside the room," Alex said quickly, stumbling over the words. "The man wasn't Brace, it was a double. He and two other men captured us and took us back up to our flat, but we escaped with the Chimera."

"So it was the Chimera they were developing," Mrs Jones said.

"Listen," Tamara said. "There's more to this. Inkheart couldn't develop the detonation software last time, how are they this time?"

"There's only one explanation. Brace must have been developing it himself. Perhaps Inkheart spied on him and found out he was creating it for the CIA," Mrs Jones suggested. "We need to get to that computer. No, not you two, you've got to get inside Inkheart's base and destroy any backup copies."

"Where is it?" Tamara asked. "We can get started straight away."

"Unfortunately not," Mrs Jones said. "Send me your coordinates."


	8. Chapter 7 Air Infiltration

**Sorry for the delay, but I finally got chapter seven up and running. In this chapter, poor Alex is sent into Inkheart's base, where he will have a few nasty suprises waiting for him. I would also like to take the opportunity to thank Saynt Jimmy, who has reviewed every chapter. Keep em coming!**

**Dartemis**

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The Boeing Lion Air 737 transported Tamara and Alex across the ocean towards France. Alex remembered now, with his teeth chattering with the vibration, what Mrs Jones had said:

"Inkheart is split into many branches. Each branch handles different operations. It's the height of organized crime. Each operation can be in any country, but it can't take place at in the same country as the branch that is performing it. The Chimera branch is in France, which is where you're going now. You have to infiltrate it, and sabotage the Chimera software. All of it.

"It will be dangerous, so I'm sending in a crack team of agents to help. The CIA, SAS, FBI and Special Operations have put together twenty-four of our best agents. If you need a distraction or just some extra men, push the alert button on your suit. It'll send out a signal. The agents will enter and help."

MI6 had given Alex a jet-black suit. On the front, there was a small button on the breast pocket. If he pressed it, a team of agents would come sailing in. Tamara had an American one. She loaded her gun, and slipped it into a holster. Alex sighed. MI6 still hadn't given him a gun, and Smithers hadn't given him any harmful gadgets. Apart from the data stick. Smithers had said it was a stun grenade. Alex had slipped it into the breast pocket of his suit. He and Tamara were going down in a unique way.

"T minus one minute," said the pilot. Alex looked around the plane as he got up. He observed the twenty-four agents cramped around him, checking their guns, making sure everything was ready. Alex walked over to the wall, and took a large sheet of metal off the rack. It was shaped a bit like a board, though decidedly more rectangular. Tamara took her one off and followed Alex over to the hatch. One of the soldiers opened it for them. The howl of the wind trampled round the small room. Alex checked his parachute was on his back, and waited for the all clear. A red light turned green. The soldier signaled Tamara. She nodded, looking sick, and seized her board firmly. She shuffled to the hatch and jumped out. Alex looked at the soldier. He nodded, and Alex walked to the edge, holding his board. He swayed, then launched himself forward.

The boards were small gliders, used recently by the SAS to get into unknown locations from the air. Alex descended, trying not to hold his breath. He had pulled his oxygen mask over his face, but he was still finding it difficult to breathe. He fell through the clouds, and after a second of complete confusion, was in the clear sky. He could see France. It was about eleven o'clock and the sky was heavy with rain. Alex pulled a lever on the glider and two wings shot out, sapping into place. They slowed his decent slightly, but he was still falling very fast. There was about five hundred feet to go. Alex pushed the cable release on the cable that attached him to the glider and pulled the parachute tag. The glider fell away, splashing into the sea. Alex's parachute blossomed above him. He took a moment to get his bearings. Tamara's parachute was right beneath him, drifting over the abandoned warehouse that Mrs Jones had insisted was Inkheart's base of operations. Alex pulled the toggles until he was right over it. He watched Tamara land. He followed carefully, landing right next to her. The top of the warehouse thudded into his legs, and the shock traveled up his body. Tamara was gasping next to him. Alex cut loose his parachute, and collapsed onto the floor.

After a moment, Alex regained his breath and sat up. Rain dripped down his face. Tamara was bent double, breathing heavily. Slowly, she sat up.

"Never, ever again," she spat, lifting her parachute into the middle of the building so that it didn't hang down the side and give away their position.

"Come on," Alex said standing up. He still felt a bit faint. Something was thundering around his brain, desperate to get out.

The warehouse was about ten floors, a wide gray building with a tall fence surrounding it. Signs were fixed along the fence:

DANGER

KEEP OUT

All of the windows were blacked out, and the gate was locked with a heavy chain. Alex and Tamara crept to the edge of the roof and peeked over the edge. They had to find a way in. Cars could be heard zooming along the motorway a hundred meters away. The streets around the warehouse were deserted, but Mrs Jone's information had paid off.

An hour after their landing, Tamara and Alex observed a white van. The van trundled along the side of the warehouse and turned right along the road behind the building. It stopped, the driver appearing to speak to someone on his mobile phone. Then, something impossible happened. The pavement on either side of the van started to move upwards. Alex blinked, to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Then he understood. The pavement wasn't moving. The road was. Part of the middle of the road was carrying the van down, under the warehouse. It reached the bottom, the van drove off of the piece of road and the lift began to ascend again. In no time at all, the road was back where it should be. And all without a sound. Alex smiled. It reminded him of his mission Eagle Strike. He had infiltrated a secure compound by clinging to a van with magnets. This would probably be easier. It would work. He was sure of it.


	9. Chapter 9: Going Underground

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while, been a bit busy with work experience and stuff. So, Chapter 8. A lot of things are pulled together and there's a suprise regarding the virus. I'm now planning a great chapter called Fjord and Farrari with a good fight scene. So, here's chapter 8, Going Underground.**

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Elliot Charge was coming to the end of his journey. A tired fifty-year-old man, Elliot was, as the name suggested, English. He had come to work for Inkheart at the age of twenty, and had never looked back. The money was good, and he didn't mind working long hours. He had no family, nothing to go home to. "Home" was a small flat on the other side of town. Inkheart had paid for the flat, and it was good enough. Satellite TV and a bed; good enough for him.

Elliot smiled, glad that the motorway was empty. He pulled off, and headed to a group of warehouses half a mile away. It took him less than five minutes to reach them. He drove the van onto a rectangle of paint. The paint was new, but by the time morning came, it would be gone. That was how efficient Inkheart was. That was why no secret service could best them. Elliot opened the van window and waved his pass at the tiny button camera set into the wall. A minute later, the platform began to descend. Elliot waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the quiet music coming out of the radio. Once the platform had stopped moving, he opened the door into the familiar garage area. A black clad man looked at him. He was standing behind a glass window in a tiny office. Elliot walked over, taking his pass out of his pocket. It proclaimed the owner to be working for Depth Electronics in Japan, which of course didn't exist. The man placed the pass onto a piece of equipment and slid it across. The screen on a computer flashed green. The man handed the pass back. No smile, no greeting. No directions either. Elliot knew where to go. He had an appointment with Fjord. Neither Elliot nor the man noticed a slim length of rope fall from the road. By the time the man pressed the button to raise the platform back up to the road again, it was already too late. Alex Rider slid softly to the ground and darted into the shadow beside the office window. His hands had deep welts in them from the rope. He stole across after Elliot down a corridor. Elliot walked purposefully until he came to a door about halfway along the corridor. He walked in and shut it. Alex slipped into another door with the brass number "19" on it. He pulled out a radio and whispered to Tamara.

"I'm in," he said.

"Good. Check around some of the rooms. See if you can find anything interesting."

Alex nodded. He felt in one of the pockets the memory stick Smithers had given to him. He checked around the room he was in. It was some kind of office. Alex walked over to the desk. There were no personal items, no photos. Just a computer and a phone. There was also a sheet of paper, and scrawled across it, there were several notes. A name and a phone number, then further down a sentence that caught Alex's eye.

"Chimera – complete. Insert and detonate June 20, 2005, 10:00 hours.

Alex swore under his breath. It was already ten past ten. They were too late. It was the 20th today, He looked around desperately, then muttered into the mike under his chin.

"Tamara, we're too late!"

"What?"

"The virus is already in the system! It's already detonated. Tamara swore.

"I'll make contact with control, see what's happened."

Alex heard a momentary burst of static. A minute later, Tamara's voice rang through the ear piece again.

"Alex?"

"What's happened?"

"Not good. I can't get a line."

"You're joking."

"The lines only go down if there's a problem with the system and the satellites rearrange."

"Let me try the laptop."

Alex opened his back pack and whipped open the laptop. He set it up, double-clicking the Internet icon. The view screen came up, but there was nothing on it. Just black. Alex swore again, then updated Tamara.

"We're in trouble now." She said. "There's only one thing we can do."

"Deactivate the virus," Alex said. He was already looking through the folders in the drawers of the desk in the hope of finding a weakness in Chimera. He whipped out a folder.

"Alex?" Tamara said. "I'm coming in."

"What? No, give me a bit more time."

"No way. Alex, may I remind you that this operation is under the command of the CIA," she said, a hard tone in her voice. She suddenly sounded like Alan Blunt. Alex swallowed a reply, and instead concentrated on the folder.

"OK," he said his voice dull.

"Good. Where are you?"

"In an office. Office nineteen."

"Don't move," Tamara said, the steely tone still in her voice. "I'll come and meet you." She cut the line. Alex went over the contents of the folder again.

Chimera: Virus

Project Start 21st August 1999

Estimated project end: 2005 

Project leader: P. Fjord

Chimera virus – facts 

Joe Brace defeated Inkheart's project Chimera, 1996. Brace was curious about Chimera and began to develop, in secret, another form of Chimera software. Chimera – perfect weapon but couldn't be detonated. Software was faulted. Brace developed software and Chimera.

1999 – Project start

Acquired information regarding Brace

2000 – Acquired information concerning the fact that all CIA files were still infected with Chimera

2001 – Began developing detonation software

2003 – detonation software reached a fault – project put on hold

2005 – agents dispatched to Joe Brace's location to acquire the final information needed to complete detonation software.

Alex continued reading the report with horror. This mysterious cult had humiliated Brace and had bought down the CIA. He was disturbed, suddenly, by shouting. As quickly as it had started, it stopped. Alex stood, tense, watching the door. It opened, and Alex dived forward. But it was only Tamara. There was a cut above her eye. She was dragging something behind her. It was an Inkheart agent. He was knocked out.

Alex leaped forward and shut the door. Tamara dragged the unconscious man to the back of the room and dumped him into a corner. Only then did she turn away to talk to Alex.

"Well?" he said.

"Objectives remain the same," she grunted. "I signaled the soldiers on the plane. They'll be here soon. That'll give us a diversion so we can search for a weakness."

Alex nodded.

"Lets get out there"

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**Just like to thank all people who review this story.**


	10. Chapter 10 Fjord and Ferrari

**I know that some of my reviewers have been waiting for this chapter, so I decided to get it done quickly. Hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations. I haven't even planned the next chapter, but I know that the entire story will be drawing to a close soon. Thanks**

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Fjord was annoyed. That idiot Kelly just had to get him taken out by a kid didn't he? And now Fjord was receiving the comeuppance. Some things never change. The boss had contacted him an hour ago from his HQ in Italy, telling him he'd been demoted. Now Allsachi was in charge! Allsachi made a monkey look smart, Fjord thought furiously. He stamped along the underground corridors.

A short bearded man ran up to him. Fjord frowned.

"What is it?"

"Downstairs, sir, we've discovered that the guard in deliveries has gone missing."

Fjords frown deepened. Inkheart agents were not allowed to leave the building under any circumstances during the day or while they were on duty.

"See if you can track him down," Fjord said. The man bowed and hurried off. That made Fjord feel better. He still inspired fear into the hearts of the agents. He hurried to his office. But he had just sat down when the phone on his desk bleeped like crazy. Moments later, he had agents all over the building screaming in his ear about some SAS jet flying over the building. But how . . . unless . . .

Fjord left his bleeping phone, and hurried to the surveillance department. He booted up the multiple screens. When they had first set up, they had agents watching the internal cameras all the time, but nobody broke in so there wasn't any point. But the boss insisted that they keep the cameras and equipment.

Fjord fast forward the tapes, bringing them up to date.

There!

A figure on the screen, just going into one of the offices. The door closed. Fjord wound the tape backwards and froze it, examining the figure. He, or she, was black clad and looked young.

Well, smiled Fjord. I can deal with young people. That idiot Allsachi wouldn't have spotted this! His smile faded slightly when he fast forwarded the tape. Another black clad figure had joined him, or her. This one was definitely a woman; he could see her long blond hair. She looked around as she went in. Fjord caught her face and saved it to the system. Then he went back to the tape. She was dragging the body of the agent who had gone missing. If only there was a camera in the room. Fjord fast forward the tape again, and stopped just in time to see them leaving. He was about to reach for his mobile and call down a squad when he hesitated. He could take them on. Then he'd have all the glory and the promotion. He left the room, heading down to the armory. The agents had an appointment with Mr Fjord.

Alex and Tamara crept through the complex. It seemed to go on forever. They emerged in a huge room. Cars of all different makes filled the room; Ferrari, BMW, Lamborghini, Aston Martin . . . and that was just the first floor! The roof was extremely high, and Alex could see several more levels, each filled with cars. Alex took in all of this, and was just about to follow Tamara when an explosion rocked the entire warehouse. Alex staggered and reached out to clutch one of the cars. But his hand slipped and he toppled onto the floor. One of the railings on the upper level broke loose because a car was leaning on it. The car, a BMW z8 plunged down to their level and exploded with a huge bang. Flames leapt up, then plunged down in a whirl of sparks. Swearing, Alex brushed them off. He got up feeling dizzy.

"Looks like the guys are here," she said. He noticed that she had drawn her hand gun.

"That was the agents?"

"I hope so."

This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Tamara motioned him to stay where he was, and prowled into the room. There was a smallish space in the middle that wasn't taken up by cars. She headed towards it, but before she'd gone four paces, there was a loud _Thunk _and an Aston Martin V12 Vanquish burst into flames. Tamara had enough on-the-go experience to realize that she was under fire. She immediately rolled behind a Lamborghini before checking upwards to the upper levels. A man slipped out from behind a pillar and sent another grenade flying through the barrel of the grenade launcher. A Ferrari exploded and Tamara ducked to avoid debris.

"Ha!" said the man. "Think you'd just drop in to disrupt the operation, did you?"

Alex recognized the tone in his voice; he'd heard it before. Out of the mouths of the insane trying to take over the world. Herod Sayle, Dr Grief, Damien Cray, Mrs Rothman . . . they had all sounded over confident. Before their deaths.

Without thinking, Alex darted out of his hiding place. Fjord switched targets. The BMW he had been hiding behind just moments before burst into flames, hurling up in the air in a shower of sparks. Alex ducked his head instinctively, but kept on running. He rolled behind a pillar and pressed up against the wall, one target in mind: the stair way up to the next level.

Fjord had switched targets back to Tamara. The car she was hiding behind exploded. She was thrown back smashing into the car behind. Alex called out but she looked OK. She was moving at any rate. He watched her roll behind another car and take a few shots at Fjord. It was enough of a diversion for Alex. He sprinted for the stair well that would take him up to the next floor. Tamara was still shooting. Fjord had dived behind a car for cover. Tamara took advantage and sought better cover behind a pillar.

Thunk 

A nearby car exploded. Alex crept along the level, hoping Fjord wouldn't see him until it was too late. He was behind him and began advancing towards him. Tamara withdrew from her shooting just in time. A grenade hit the ground next to her and she was knocked from her hiding place. Fjord drew a handgun to finish her off. Alex saw her, sprawled on the ground, lifting her head. It was up to him to make sure that it wasn't the last movement she performed. He yelled.

Fjord turned quickly; he hadn't realized Alex was there. Alex saw the barrel of the grenade launcher go up. He yelled again.

Fjord fired. And the silver BMW in front of him exploded. He had aimed too low. The explosion in front of him lifted him off his feet, over the railing and towards the first level. His back collided with the roof of a car with the sort of impact that the spine was never meant to withstand.

He lay there for a second.

Then his body, broken like a doll, slid off.

Alex had other things to worry about. The wreckage of the silver BMW had clipped him. He fell onto his back as the car and part of the side of the burning car pressed him into the floor. He couldn't believe it! It was the same make and color as his uncle's old BMW. The car he had almost been crushed in. He felt sick as the wreckage pushed into him. The fierce heat and fumes made him feel dizzy.

Suddenly, he felt the great weight lift off him and he blacked out with relief, wondering if he had died.


End file.
